


OUTLAWS

by joufancyhuh



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Murder, Short Story, Siblings, Strong Language, autistic narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-18 11:03:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11873013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joufancyhuh/pseuds/joufancyhuh
Summary: Nathan agrees to go on the run with his sister, not realizing he doesn't have all the facts.





	OUTLAWS

**Author's Note:**

> The people represented in this piece is pure fiction and should be treated as such.
> 
>  
> 
> _“Yeah, well she’s dead now, isn’t she?”_

Nathan thought she looked like a criminal, her hood scrunched around her face as she stuffed money from the ATM into her pockets. The headlights from her Honda Accord made her seem more shadow than person, a phantom or superhero that only appeared when her younger brother needed help. His hands knotted themselves in his lap as his heart thrummed in his ears. The beginning of something like this was a lot less exciting than it appeared on TV.

Marla slid back into the driver’s seat before turning to him. “Are you sure you want to do this? There will be no going back.”

He pulled his own hood over his head, leaning his forehead against the door frame. “Do I have a choice?” He scratched at the stubble growing on his chin, the itchiness of it setting in. He’d have to shave soon, but couldn’t remember if he packed razors.

He caught her giving him a pity look in the window’s reflection, her face lit in a dull green from lights on the dashboard. The corners of his lips turned down, and he pulled the strings of his head covering tighter, an attempt to block out any more misguided looks she might give him.  Nathan’s eyes blurred as the only town he knew passed them by in twisted shapes, the darkness calling out for them to go back, no one had to know they tried to leave. As they passed a set of cops in a speed trap, he tilted his head in his her direction. “Won’t they check your license plate and know?”

The smirk on her face stood out, the closest thing to a smile he had seen that day from either of them. “I switched plates with Mrs. Cooper’s car. I figured they won’t check too far into it since they’re both Accords. I’ll switch them again with the next one we come across. People don’t notice their own plates, at least not often.”

He shifted back to the window. He should’ve known that she had a plan. She was smart, way smarter than him. It had been her idea to run, and though she had pleaded with him until he came along, he still had doubts. Her preparedness helped to put him at ease. Of course she had thought this through. She had their mother’s resourcefulness.

The thought of their mother dribbled quiet tears down his cheeks. His chest heaved as he tried to keep the sobs inside, raising a hand to help clamp his mouth shut. Marla noticed anyway, and patted his leg as he trembled in his seat. “It’s okay to cry. Here, I’ll turn some music on so you have some privacy.” She reached up into the visor and pulled out a CD to push into the player. Drake came on, crooning about starting from the bottom. For Nathan, the bottom was drafty, the windows of the car cracked to let in West Virginia summer air. Would he ever taste it again?  Had Marla cried yet, about their mother, about leaving behind her childhood home for good this time?  

The car drove up the ramp to the interstate, and just like that, the town was behind them, transforming from physical to memory. He didn’t know where she was headed, but he trusted her. She would get them there.

Three hours passed with only the music between them before taking them down an exit ramp. The light for empty glared on the dash, but she drove them past the first gas station. When she did stop, it was at a CVS. “Do you need to use the bathroom?”

“I’m good,” he mumbled.

“Stay here then. I’ll be right back.” He felt his heart jump to his throat as she disappeared behind the white doors of the pharmacy. His mind was quick to jump to the worst conclusion. What if she’s in there calling the cops right now? He felt around in the backseat until his fingers grazed the vinyl of his backpack. He dragged it into the front with him, shoving his hand down into the bottom until he felt hard indented plastic. He maneuvered it out of the bag, relief flooding his face to see Darth Vader’s helmet gleam in the surrounding lights. He hugged him to his chest as he turned his attention back to the door to wait.

Marla took fifteen minutes to come back outside, sporting three big plastic bags of stuff. She plopped down in her seat, throwing two of the bags in the back while searching through the other one. She pulled out a Monster and a bottle of Jack Daniels. “Damn, I love this state. One-stop shopping is so convenient.”

“What’s all that?” He gestured toward the backseat.

She noticed the action figure in his hand and rolled her eyes. “Of course you brought him.” He expected her to be angry, like their mother would have been, but instead she laughed and ruffled his hair under his hood. “I shouldn’t have expected any different. I did say essentials, after all.” He tried to take the Monster away from her, but she yanked it back, instead pushing the Jack into his hand. “Take a shot. It’ll help calm your nerves.”

He shook his head. “Ew, no. That stuff is gross.” He tried to give it back, but she wouldn’t take it.

“It’ll help.” She brought out a bottle of Sprite. “You can chase it with this.” When she saw he still wasn’t interested, she sighed. “It’ll help you sleep. You need sleep.”

“Aren’t we stopping somewhere?”

“Not tonight. We need to get as far away from Ronceverte as possible.”

“Don’t you need to sleep?”

She shrugged. “That’s why the Monster’s for me and the alcohol’s for you. Now drink.” She knocked her can against the bottle. “You haven’t slept since Mom died.”

His face scrunched up with distaste, but he twisted open the cap and drew the bottle to his lips. The brown liquid sloshed into his mouth, and he tried his best to choke it down, still coming up coughing. She laughed into her can, the sound echoing in the chamber. “That was a lot better than seven months ago at your party. You took it like a champ. I’ve never been so proud.” She fake sniffled, making him grin. His 21st birthday had been a gift from her, as were the train tickets to bring him up to where she lived in Baltimore. It seemed like a different lifetime, when his only care was if he’d get to finish watching Rick and Morty before he left to go back home.

He wiped his mouth on his sleeve before picking up the Sprite. “It’s disgusting.” He swished the Sprite in his mouth a few times before swallowing, determined to get any remnant of the alcohol out of his mouth. She turned the engine and pulled back out onto the road. After a few miles, his head began to swim as his eyelids became too heavy to keep open. He curled into the door frame and pulled the strings of his hood to block out any light.

* * *

He dreamt of the night their mother died. They were eating dinner, and Marla sat to his left while his mother was on his right. They were arguing again as he shrunk down into his seat, desperate to be invisible. “Nathan needs help! You’re not even trying to get him the help he needs!” Marla’s face was tomato-red, until it turned into an actual tomato. His mother was also red, and green, and blue. She snapped back, “Nothing is wrong with him! He’s not stupid, he just has a disability!” And his mother grew into a bull. The chair underneath splintered with the additional weight. She charged at his sister’s red head, and his sister screamed until he jolted awake.

* * *

He threw the hood off of his face and frantically searched for Marla, heart pumping with adrenaline. The screams of his sister still echoed in his head. The real Marla had her seat down and eyes closed. The slight movements of her chest gave him reassurance that she was still alive. Sunlight hit the back of her head, strands of her mocha hair glowing around her face. He leaned his seat back so that he lie down across from her. Was she having nightmares, too?

That dream wasn’t real, he had to remind himself, even if elements of it were. He reached across the space between them and squeezed her hand. The fight happened, but not that night. Marla and his mother hadn’t argued on her most recent trip into town. It had been such a change that he thought things between them might finally be fixed. But then their mother died, and he was taken into custody as the prime suspect. Marla had come to his rescue, posting bail and proposing her plan to run. Did anyone know they were missing yet? He knew if they got caught, it would be both of them going to jail, not just him.

And he would’ve gone to jail; he didn’t have an alibi for the night his mother was murdered. He was there, in the house with headphones on as he played Knights of the Old Republic on his Xbox, when someone came in through the front door and shot their mother in her bed. He didn’t know she was dead until the next day when he tried to wake her up after seeing the blood. Stupid. His prints were everywhere, his bloodied hands leaving trails around the house as he tried to figure out what to do to get help. He called Marla first, before calling for an ambulance. She didn’t pick up, and then the cops picked him up.

They were parked at a rest area. His bladder turned itself on for the day, an urgent need to pee rising to the top of his problems list. He didn’t want her to panic if she woke up, so he tapped her arm until she opened her eyes. “I have to go to the bathroom.” He squirmed in his seat to reiterate the point.

She groaned as she flipped onto her back and stretched out her arms toward the roof. “Do you need me to come with you?”

“Yes please.”

She picked up her shoes from under her seat and crammed her feet back in. The knob on the side of her seat shot her up to driving position. “Just let me get some stuff from the back.”

He got out of the car and observed her rifle through her luggage and the CVS bag. She shoved two boxes into her purse and tumbled with them out of the car. They staggered into the deserted grey building, red-eyed and still weary. She nodded to the men’s room as she made a path to the women’s. He did his business, but caught his reflection over the sink while he scrubbed his hands clean. The bags that had grown under his eyes made him seem older by five years.

Marla was waiting when he came out, a fresh coat of eyeliner and lipstick painted onto her face. “Come with me.” She pulled his hand toward a family restroom.

He jerked it back. “Ew, Marla. No way.”

“Just do it.”

She locked the door behind them and pulled the changing table off of the wall. She dumped the contents of her purse out, him marveling at the amount of crap she had managed to fit in there. He spotted the boxes she had shoved in there earlier, a set of clippers and a box of brown hair dye. She unwrapped the clippers from the box and plugged them into the outlet over the sink. She tugged the ponytail holder out of her hair and glided the clippers down the middle of her head. Horrified, his mouth fell open. She shot him a grin in the mirror. “Don’t look so surprised. You knew we’d have to change our look.”

“But shaving your head? Mom loved your hair.”

“Yeah, well she’s dead now, isn’t she?” He was taken aback by the venom in her words. He knew they weren’t close, but to say that so soon after she was murdered… A feeling he couldn’t place took root in his mind. Instead of trying to place it, he gaped as her hair fell around her in an unconnected circle with the sink and floor.

“It’ll be harder to change hair like that.”

“I have wigs. This just makes it easier to wear them.” She ran a hand over the fuzz left on her scalp as she finished. “Well, this is a first. What do you think?” Her reflection peered at him, waiting for a response.

He shrugged. “Am I going to have to shave my head?”

She shook hers, stray hair flying out like dust. “The hair dye is for you, though I do plan on cutting some.” She gathered the discarded hair into her hands and tossed it in the trash. “Do you want to sit on the floor or the toilet?”

He evaluated his prospects, deciding the floor was the less dirty option. “Can’t I sit on something though?”

She surveyed the room, eyes settling on the toilet seat cover box. She pulled out twelve sheets of covers and laid them out like a mat. “There.”

He sat cross-legged onto the floor as she shaved the sides of his head, leaving alone what was on top. When she finished, she rubbed Vasoline along his hair line and ears. “What’s this for?”

“It stops the dye from staining your skin. Now sit still.”

She tore into the box of dye and snapped rubber gloves to her wrists. “Do you know what you’re doing?”

“Enough.” The goo felt cold against his scalp as she worked it into his hair. “It’s weird doing this to someone else. I’m used to only doing mine.” He wiggled around as his scalp began to tingle. “Stop that.”

“Where are we, anyway?”

“Georgia.”

“Wo-ow. You must’ve driven fast.”

“Don’t I always?”

They played Go Fish with a pack of cards she bought at CVS as they waited for the time for the dye to end. He won three hands, and she won two. They were about to start another round when the timer on her watch timer went off.

After she rinsed the dye out in the sink, using her empty Monster can to help places where the spigot couldn’t reach, she buried their hair and the trash from the dye under paper towels and seat covers. She shoved everything back into her purse and pulled her hood up. “Keep yours up until we’re out of here. There might be cameras.”

When they got back to the car, she popped the trunk as he flopped into his seat. Darth Vader sat in the cup holder. He picked him up and positioned his arms in a fighting stance. “Luke, I am your father,” he imitated.

Marla ducked back into the car, short curly black hair on her head. “Hey, that sounds pretty good.” She offered him a smile as her fingers fumbled a cigarette out of the pack in her hand. She picked up the lighter from her front console and lit up.

“I didn’t know you smoked.”

She turned the engine and cracked open a window. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” She drove them onto the interstate. “There’s some snacks in one of those CVS bags if you’re hungry. I figure we can stop in about two hours for some real food.” She switched cds with what was in the player. He recognized the first few bars as Childish Gambino’s  _Because the Internet_  album. She rapped along, the smoke from her cigarette drifting out of her mouth through the crack in the window. He noticed, for the first time, that there were burn marks on the upholstery around the glass.

* * *

Landmark Diner was a busy place. The noise and the crowd set Nathan on edge as they followed the hostess to their booth. She was pretty, with short pink hair and a star tattoo on her wrist. She called them, “y’all” and he thought he might be in love with her. He kept trying to find reasons to lean out of his seat to get a glimpse of her.

Marla ordered French toast while he got cereal with bananas. As soon as the waitress walked away, Marla turned to him. “Did you take your medicine this morning?”

Nathan spun his straw around in his water glass, the ice clinking the sides of it. “No.”

Her straw not yet opened, she pointed it at him with an accusatory look. “Just because Mom isn’t here doesn’t mean you can skip your pills. They’re important. She got at least that right.”

“But what if I run out?”

“That doesn’t mean you can stop taking them.” She smacked at his hand with the straw. “You’re splashing water all over the table. Knock it off.” As if on cue, water rose over the edge and splashed onto the crotch of his jeans. He frowned and pushed the glass away. The hostess was going to think he peed himself.

“What happens when they’re gone? I don’t think they’ll give me another prescription.”

He hated the pity in her eyes, the look everyone else gave him when their mother said that he was special or that he was disabled.  “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

“Mom used to say that.” He picked Darth Vader out of his pocket, walking him across the table.

“I’m not her.”

He didn’t look up. “I know.”

“I will  _never_  be her.”

“I know.”

Food floated in front of his face. “One bowl of cereal for the young man,” the waitress shouted as she plopped his breakfast down in front of him. The smell of Marla’s French toast made him queasy. He wasn’t hungry. He took a small bite to appease her, but his appetite was left behind in the pool of blood surrounding their mother.

* * *

“Are you sad that you won’t be able to go home?”

Marla glanced over to him in the passenger’s seat. He hadn’t talked since breakfast at the diner, hiding his attention in his Nintendo DS. She turned the volume down on her newest cd, Foreigner’s Greatest Hits. “Yeah, I am. Are you?”

“I’m sorry you had to leave because of me.”

She shook her head. “Don’t be. You know there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. You’re my brother, Nathan. I would never change that.”

He shifted in his seat, uncomfortable with the implications in her words. “Where are we going?”

“Where would you like to go? We can go to Colorado, or Mexico, or even California! I would love to see Cali.”

“Can we go to Universal Studios? If you bring junk to the Jawas, they’re supposed to give you nicer stuff. And maybe the Redwood Forest where they shot the scenes from Endor?”

She giggled. “Sure thing. Whatever you want.”

* * *

He had another dream as he napped. He and Marla were Sam and Dean from Supernatural. Marla was Dean, with her leather jackets and bad attitude. He was Sam, with long hair and love of plaid. He and Marla were in the Impala when Marla reached over and opened the handle of his car door. His book bag flew out the open door and bounced behind them on the road. He attempted to close it, but then he fell out, and Marla just kept driving down the highway.

* * *

They reached New Orleans by sunset. Neither of them had been that far south before, and the lights of French Quarter glittered in their eyes as they passed it by from the car. “Hey, stop!” he said with his face pressed up against the window. His breath fogged up the lower half of the glass. “I want to get out and see!”

“Not yet. We have something we’ve got to do first.” She tapped him on the shoulder. “Are you hungry yet? I’m starving.”

“I want to stop.” He squirmed in his seat. “You said we could go anywhere and I want to go there.”

“After,” she hissed. “This is important.”

“We can get food there.” He pointed to a bar with bright lights and a sign declaring the best Jambalaya in the South. Well-dressed men and women formed a line leading outside the entrance.

“What name do you like?”

“What?”

She cleared her throat before repeating herself. “I was thinking Bobby for myself. What do you think?”

“Why does it matter?”

She pulled into an empty parking lot. Someone had painted the letters O and K overtop of the door. He shrunk down into his seat. What was Marla trying to do? She cut the engine and grabbed her purse, checking her reflection in the rearview mirror before turning her attention to him. “We need fake ids. Someone pulls us over or cards us, and our whole plan is scratched. So, and I’m not asking you again, what name do you like? Otherwise I’m going to pick for you, and I’m going to make it as ridiculous as possible, like Bilbo or Jar-Jar.”

He wrinkled his nose. “Don’t be mean.” He looked to Darth Vader sitting in the cup holder, his new place of residence when Nathan wasn’t playing with him. “How about Anakin?”

“That works.” She stepped out of the car. “Go get yourself some food and I’ll talk to the guy.”

“How do you know he’s here? How do you know about this place?”

“Research.”  He held the door open for her. He opened his mouth to ask when she had time, but she was already gone by the time he stepped inside.

* * *

They were on the TV of the first hotel they tried to book for that night. Marla was flirting with the clerk over his desk, trying to get them a discount on the room. They were still in Louisiana; the person who did the IDs said it took a few days to get them together. Marla was doing her best Georgia peach accent, an effort to match with the new plates on the car in a red wig that was frizzy from the humidity. He had been growning uncomfortable watching her twirl her hair and bat her eyelashes when he turned his attention to the TV beyond the clerk’s shoulder. A small gasp escaped his mouth when he saw the two of them flash across the screen, pictures taken off of their Facebook profiles.

The subtitles read: Marla and Nathan Walker, wanted for the murder of their mother, Samantha Walker. Samantha Walker was shot in the head several times on June 22nd in the West Virginia home where she and her son lived. The siblings have disappeared since that time. They are to be considered armed and dangerous. If you have any information of the whereab-

He couldn’t read anymore, his body shaking with fear. He crept up behind Marla and tugged on the bottom of her shirt. “I don’t feel good.”

She glanced over her shoulder. “If you can wait a few minutes, I’ll have us a room. Then you can lay down or throw up or whatever you need to do.”

He persisted. “No, I don’t feel good. We need to go.”

She turned back to the clerk and offered him an apologetic smile. “Sorry. Little brothers, you know?”

The clerk glared at him, not Marla. “He’s not so little.”

Marla slipped her arm around Nathan’s shoulder. “Yeah, but he has autism. He needs someone to help take care of him.”

The clerk’s face distorted with pity, and Nathan had to fight the urge to sock him. He started to say something, but she pinched his arm as he gritted his teeth. She steered him back out to the parking lot where the car sat, letting go as they arrived.  “What was that all about?”

“Why did you tell him I have autism?”

“Because you do.”

“Mom said-“

“Mom was  _wrong_. Denying that you have it doesn’t make it go away.” She unlocked the car doors. “Now we have to find some other place that doesn’t accept ID. We were so close to an actual bed tonight, Nate.”

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “We were on the news.”

Her head shot up. “What?”

“We were on the news.”

“What did it say?”

“They’re trying to find us.”

She patted him on the back. “Okay. Okay, good thinking pulling us out.” She slid into her seat and cradled her head in the palms of her hands. “I knew it would come to this, but not yet.”

He knelt down on the gravel and hugged her. “I’m sorry.”

“This isn’t your fault.” Her voice was muffled from between her arms.

“If they hadn’t arrested me-“

“It’s not your fault, Nate. I didn’t think they would go to arrest you. If I did…” Her voice dropped off as she peered up at him through her fingers. “Everything I’ve done, it was for you.” He noticed how much tiny she was, though he was the younger sibling. She always seemed so much taller, the strength she carried in her shoulders when she walked sagged as her breathing staggered. He wasn’t sure if she was crying, but he held onto her until her body stopped shaking and her air intake returned to normal.

 

* * *

They found a motel down the road. The room was a small tacky 70s decor with two single beds and a rust colored toilet. The bed felt like planks as he fell onto it. It was nice to stretch out, but the car had become a comfortable place to sleep. Marla was quick to shove something dark under her pillow as she laid down. Without her wig, his sister looked like an alien, all smooth head and dark eyes. “Did you kill her?” He turned his gaze to the clenched Darth Vader in his hands.

She sighed as she sank onto the bed. “Do you want to know the truth?”

He shook his head. “No.”

“Then no, I didn’t touch her.” She turned onto her side and closed her eyes.

He watched her breathing slow, then rose and shuffled over to lie in bed beside her. Her back against his felt like protection. He slid Darth Vader under his pillow for extra comfort, but knowing he had a sister willing to do anything to help him, there wasn’t anything better than that. He promised to the night that he would try and return the favor.

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr Tag](http://joufancyhuh.tumblr.com/tagged/outlaws)   
>  [Aesthetic](https://www.pinterest.com/Joufancyhuh/aesthetic-short-story-outlaws/)
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> 
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> 
> OUTLAWS began as a bedtime story, the one where your mind drifts into a What If situation. I was taking a short story class at the time, and when it came to ideas, I decided to flesh this out and breathe life into it.


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